Wounded
by NDV
Summary: Post-ep series, includes TOTD, TTSD, and two others.
1. Notes

Wounded is a four part prelude sort of series that's leading into a bigger one to come if anyone's interested. Each of the four stories centered around CJ/Mandy, Adminiculum (aid), Castrum (fortress), Periculum (risk), and Cito (to cause interest or arousal), is a post-ep, follow-up, or missing scene from the episodes Take Out the Trash Day, Take this Sabbath Day, Let Bartlet be Bartlet, and Mandatory Minimums, respectively. They're all short and maybe a little more than off on characterizations, so you've been warned.  
  
Cito contains lyrics from the song Please Forgive Me by Melissa Etheridge, which will tie into the stories that will follow.  
  
Pairing: CJ/Mandy, in case you haven't gathered that already  
  
Category: AU-ish  
  
Rating: Pgish  
  
And yeah, I have a fondness for Latin.  
  
Hope this is okay- 


	2. Adminiculum

Adminiculum  
  
-Liza (lizaausten@tri-countynet.net or malenka@malenkaya.com)  
  
see notes in 0/4  
  
  
  
"You okay there, CJ?" Mandy queried, nearly stumbling into her as she walked down the hallway. The taller woman was stretched out, back against her office door, legs reaching toward the opposite wall.  
  
"It seems I've developed a habit of skulking around in darkened corridors," she muttered beneath her breath, then sighed, leaving Mandy to loom over her in puzzled silence.  
  
"CJ?" she questioned again, "has something... is this about the Lydells?" The thought burst forward like the proverbial lightbulb above her head; pull the chain, click, and Edison said, 'let there be light'.  
  
The Press Secretary cocked her head sideways, glanced up at the other woman, then rolled her neck to work out the obvious kinks. She sighed, chest swelling and falling visibly, then pulled her legs back beneath her. "I know you're not into the particularly philosophical conversations, but," CJ let her eyes flicker upward, lighting on the other woman's face, full of interest and honesty in the late night hour. "Is it wrong for me to be... glad, to almost understand why the Lydells are embarrassed by the President?"  
  
Mandy said nothing, rocking back on her heels quickly, almost indistinctly, then settled back into a more relaxed position. Quickly, her eyes darted around the bullpen, taking in the darkened room, the lowered volumes of the television, the lack of occupants.  
  
"I can't understand how anyone would think a father would be embarrassed by the identity of his own son. I don't understand why anyone would be embarrassed by their children, as long as they're happy and healthy and *alive*. Why would Lowell Lydell's father be disconcerted by his homosexuality in life, and particularly after he was killed solely for his sexual preference?" CJ continued, rhythmically clenching one fist as she waved the other in the air. "Why would anyone think he's even... slightly embarrassed that his son died for being gay? I don't understand that, Mandy." CJ paused for a second, slapping the floor with her gesturing hand, "So yeah, I'm relieved that Thomas Lydell is embarrassed by his President - our President - rather than his own son."  
  
"Don't let the press hear you say that," she attempted levity, but was sharply reigned in by the quick angling of CJ's face and the glare she shot upward. "It's not wrong, CJ, it's just... complicated."  
  
"Yeah," she nodded shortly, refusing to comment on the unexpectedly raised eyebrow that belied Mandy's sudden sensitivity.  
  
"You understand that we had to send them home?"  
  
"Maybe, yeah. I understand that he could've said something that would hurt this Administration, I'm talking extremely small blow that could actually improve things, and I understand that he's a father who's hurting because his son was murdered for an incredibly stupid reason, but feels that the government he supported isn't doing enough to ensure it doesn't happen to someone else's son."  
  
"Isn't any reason for murder stupid?" Mandy prodded, shifting feet and silently wondering just how long CJ would remain seated on the floor. She was squirming uncomfortably but had made no move to stand for reasons Mandy couldn't identify. Yet, at the same time she looked so incredibly uncomfortable in her own skin, she appeared in her element, and the fire that lit her eyes spoke of anger and futility, injustice.  
  
Shortly, the auburn-haired woman nodded, "But being murdered for who you are... We have hate crimes legislation and have had for years. A black man gets beaten to death in the south because of the color of his skin, a gay man is killed in the mid-west because he's gay, a woman is stoned in Qumar because she forgot to wear one of the seven veils. Do you see the parallels here?" she waved her hands horizontally through the air, "We condemn these other nations for their treatment of different sects, different races and sexes, and we condemn the individuals who commit them, yet in our own country we can't stop it? Not only does it appear hypocritical and futile," she blew a breath upward, a few stray strands of hair billowing upward before landing against the side of her face, "it's wrong, Mandy. Innocent people are dying out there, and the Lydells are right, we do have a weakass position on hate crimes, as well as many other things, domestic violence, sex crimes, brutality to women in other nations. I mean, hell, we trade with countries that do these things, if that's not condoning it, saying 'we won't look if you won't flaunt it', what is?"  
  
"We'll be up for re-election in less than three years, CJ," Mandy sighed, shaking her head. CJ's eyes moved upward to settle on her face, taking in the unruly wisps of dark hair, the paleness of tired, sapped skin. She was beautiful in her own right, in her determination and her skill, she noted, strong and intelligent. "If we want to make it..."  
  
"We sit the fence on everything, appear good to both parties, then cross our fingers and hope for the best, is that it? Well, even if we get the second term, are we going to crack down, is he," she waved toward the Oval Office, "going to really *do* something about hate crimes in America, land of opportunity? 'Cause I hate to tell you this, but there are two parents out there whose son has just been killed because of who he chose to love, and that's not much of an opportunity. Maybe we can't stop it, but if we don't at least take a position on it," CJ scrambled around, pushing herself to her feet as she slid her back along the door frame, "what good have we done? What's the purpose of our being here?"  
  
"He's doing the best he can, we all are," Mandy nodded in the direction of the Press Secretary's gesturing. Her eyes slid upward as the woman moved until she had her head cocked slightly backward to take in her full height.  
  
"Are we?" she slid the office door open, reaching just inside and gathering her briefcase and coat. "It's not enough."  
  
"You pulled yourself together today when you were needed, " she stared past her, eyes drilling into the wall just beyond as her own nails bit into the palm of her clenched fist. She continued to gaze forward as CJ stepped around her, heading toward Toby's office in an attempt to locate more work.  
  
"CJ!" her arm shot out, curling the stiff fingers and burning palm around the Press Secretary's wrist, tugging sharply inward. The older woman turned curiously toward her, glancing down to where arm met hand, a slight sweaty stickiness indicating Mandy's ever-present anxiousness.  
  
"Go home, CJ," she cocked her head to the side, and released her arm, "just go home."  
  
"Yeah," she offered a faint smile, "okay." 


	3. Castrum

Castrum  
  
-Liza (lizaausten@tri-countynet.net or malenka@malenkaya.com)  
  
See notes in 0/4  
  
  
  
"My, uh, my mother's name was Sophia," CJ volunteered finally, tossing back Sam's browned bottle of beer and swallowing desperately after the dull liquid while waiting for her next martini. She nodded to Toby across the table, then allowed her gaze to slide over Sam and Josh, who were bickering over the latter's third beer and his quite delicate system, to Mandy, who sat to her right, seemingly mesmerized by the table and feeling, no doubt, curiously out of place.  
  
She'd never fit in with them, the 'gang'. She was too political for national politics, too unfeeling at times, too good at what she had always done. Mandy was born with the urge to convince, mandate, lobby, and order boiling within her blood. It wasn't anything aimed particularly at them, no mistakes on their part that had enabled them to so easily slip to her bad side. She'd come to Bartlet's campaign, left it, and returned again without misgivings as to her purpose there, never expecting friendship or anything more than business.  
  
It was funny, though, how CJ could offer up the tiniest bit of information out of thin air, and it made her heart hammer more heavily in her chest, made her ache from the inside out. CJ had said that, like Mandy, she had no position on capital punishment, it didn't matter to her one way or another whether a murderer got life in prison or the death penalty, but his mother's name was Sophia and she really wished she'd never known that it would only take three minutes for him to die. If his mother's name hadn't been Sophia, she might not have been near tears from careful contemplation of a file and a photograph. Simon Cruz had been dead for two hours, and they'd all relocated to the only bar that was open at two in the morning.  
  
'What Becomes of the Brokenhearted' resonated from the jukebox in the corner throughout the club, and a tired group of businessmen seemed to lower their heads collectively closer to the only other full table in the place. Idly, Mandy wondered if the bartender had even thought of cutting them off, calling them a cab, and kicking them out of his 'fine establishment'.  
  
"Oh," Mandy finally replied, nodding almost dumbly after CJ's slip. "That's why."  
  
"Yeah," she replied, then cocked her head to the left, focusing on Toby. "Do you remember?"  
  
He nodded, letting her continue in the near silence as she twirled her swizzle stick almost automatically in the martini glass. "There was this horrible, horrible little club in Iowa, talking about out in the Sticks," she paused, "they played this song over and over..."  
  
"Almost got her to lip synch it," Josh supplied, "but hands down, nothing beats the Jackal," he offered a lopsided grin at Mandy that spoke of drunken forgetfulness, then turned to CJ. "You should do that more often, you know."  
  
"I'll keep that in mind, Joshua," she plastered a fake smile across her face, drawing a finger across her throat in a motion toward Sam, indicating that Josh needed to vacate the premises and sleep it off.  
  
In minutes, a flurry of activity caused the other four patrons to glance warily over at their table, observing the two men, one slapping at another in an attempt to remain seated, the more cleanly dressed of them attempting to pull the first out of his chair. Shortly afterward, Sam had prodded and pushed until Josh was walking toward the door, grousing about Donna, Sam, and conspiracies along the way.  
  
A calm silence descended again across the restaurant as the song switched to something more modern, and CJ bounced the swizzle stick through the air before attempting to spear her olive.  
  
"I'm gonna..." Toby pointed with one finger toward the bartender and stood, easily walking across the room though he'd consumed more than the rest.  
  
"Sophia, huh?" Mandy attempted to resume the conversation, desperately seeking an end to the unnerving quiet that had permeated the smoky atmosphere. "That's why?"  
  
CJ shrugged, the collar of her blouse settling against her pronounced clavicle as she chased the tip of Toby's cigar with her eyes. "I don't get worked up over these things, you know, but my mom..."  
  
Mandy nodded almost sympathetically, shuffling her feet beneath the table. She felt inadequate, as if she were trying to make conversation in a language she had never dared learn to speak. This thing that she felt was happening, this almost kinship that had been forming ever-so-slowly since the first days of the campaign, it unnerved her. Friendship, perhaps? She pursed her lips for a moment, before adding, "Janine. My mom's name was Janine."  
  
The Press Secretary smiled slightly, eyes narrowing through the haze and settling firmly on the figure to her right. Her gaze was one of the most penetrating sort, burning and seeking. "I'll keep that in mind, should I ever need to incorporate emotional blackmail into our everyday working relationship."  
  
Just as she had expected, Mandy chuckled, wryly and quietly at first, then finally turning to a husky half-laugh. CJ's smile morphed into an almost pleased grin, and she leaned her head backward and kicked her legs into Toby's chair, sliding downward. Mandy's eyes followed the trail of her skirt as it slid upward, exposing an expanse of thigh she drunkenly longed to trace. Her fingertips burned.  
  
Toby returned with his drink then, observing CJ's posture and Mandy's obvious discomfort, following her gaze to lean legs and the feet in his chair. He kicked it forward with his knee, gruffly intoning, "Your feet are in my chair."  
  
"I'm aware of that, Tobus," she ground out, tossing her swizzle stick at him with narrowed eyes. "Now, why don't you tell me how it is you hold your liquor so well?"  
  
"Beer nuts," he answered without hesitation, "and chips. That's what they're on the table for," he gestured to the basket full of crumbs in the center of the round table.  
  
"And we pay you to write for the President," she sighed, shooting him a weary grin. "It's been a long day, Toby, Mandy, I think I'm going to hail myself a cab and fall into bed."  
  
"Not with the cab driver, I hope," Mandy tossed back, biting back a grin at CJ's glare, the alcohol's obvious affects hitting her only as she swallowed the last of the fourth martini.  
  
The taller woman stood to her full height, glaring down at the two of them, "You know, you just might be right. That's a press nightmare I can definitely stand to avoid. Night all," she popped the olive into her mouth and turned away, "I'm assuming you can handle the bill, Toby."  
  
He grunted from behind her, and the two watched intently as she exited before turning back to each other. Toby's eyes slid over Mandy's features, finally settling on her face. He'd caught the expression before it had quite faded, the camaraderie, the empathy, the *want* that all mingled with need in her hazel eyes. She smoothed back a short lock of hair and settled into Toby's examination, opting to remain quiet and let him speak.  
  
"Mandy," he began, eyes bobbing around the room as he carefully worded his speech, "CJ isn't..."  
  
"Don't say it, Toby," she growled, holding the bottle up warningly, "just don't say it." 


	4. Periculum

Periculum  
  
-Liza (lizaausten@tri-countynet.net or malenka@malenkaya.com)  
  
Notes: See 0/4  
  
"You're upset," she commented, running a hand through her hair, frustrated at her own ignorance. Not for writing the memo, but for not ensuring that it had been properly destroyed.  
  
"Yeah, yeah I'm upset," CJ shrugged, voice abnormally low as she removed her reading glasses with one hand, leaning backward in her chair. "You wrote a memo that basically informed anyone that decided to go against the President exactly how to tear him - and this administration, which you are currently a member of, might I add - limb from limb, Mandy! Yes, I'm slightly upset."  
  
Mandy grimaced, voice shaky and filled with a plethora of emotions, "In all fairness, CJ..."  
  
"In all fairness, Mandy," CJ interrupted, rising to her feet in a flurry of movement, blazer askew and hands in the air, "you shouldn't have written it, or at the very least, should've made sure no one else ever knew about it!"  
  
"In all fairness," the brunette continued after a moment's pause, "in all fairness, I was not working on the Bartlet campaign at the time. I was working for Russel, and I did what I was asked to do. My job, CJ, it was my job. I never meant..."  
  
"To use a true Bartlet-ism, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, Mandy, and our approval rating is low enough as it is. Do you have any idea, *any idea*, how bad this is going to look? One of Bartlet's own staffers - *senior* staffers, at that - wrote a directorate that basically explained how to destroy his campaign and everyone working on it, politically?"  
  
"I wasn't..."  
  
"It doesn't *matter*, Mandy! It doesn't matter that you were working with Russel and not us at the time, do you *really* think that the American people as a whole will actually read that far into the story, which I'm sure will be gracing the front page of the Post tomorrow, by the way? They won't, that's now what people see. They see headlines, and this one is going to read 'Bartlet Staffer Details Administration's Vulnerabilities', or something equally appropriate for this... this, *thing*. You worked for the Governor for a year and a half, left for six months, and came back to work for the President. In that six-month period, you wrote one memo, one four page paper that could have ruined this administration! Do you know just how badly this looks for Leo and the President? Do you?" Her arms were cutting arcs through the air, voice now raised to a full yell, eyes wild as she took in the appearance of her prey.  
  
"It's politics, CJ, it wasn't anything personal," Mandy defended weakly, allowing her knees to give out beneath her as she fell into a cushioned chair. She glanced upward and watched the older woman, observed the relaxing of tense facial features and the way her arms fell to her side, tired, weary even, resigned. She was beautiful, really, in a smoky sort of way, all hazy and unusual but not quite exotic, almost feline in the way her eyes settled on the shorter brunette, graceful even in her anger.  
  
"Funny," the Press Secretary said finally, tiring of the silence that buzzed through the room, "Leo told Toby the same thing." CJ watched as her head drooped, and she stared at her hands, examining every line and pore as if she would be tested on their exact locations later. The anger seemed to fail her, and it again lowered to simmering just below the surface, no longer boiling, bubbling like lava.  
  
"I was doing my job," Mandy added, eyes falling closed as she felt CJ's tensions recede and the atmosphere in the room thin.  
  
"Yes, you were," CJ acknowledged, pausing to run her eyes over Mandy's perfectly styled hair, manicured nails, the youthful elegance she found so odd at times. "I have to give the President a copy of your memo, you know. Leo wouldn't take one, he's trying to be fair," CJ shrugged as Mandy's head lifted, eyes opening to meet her stare. "It will be in the papers tomorrow, he needs to be prepared," she watched as Mandy sighed, nodding, "It's going to be bad, but the press will find a new story in a day or two. Somebody's husband will leave their wife and four kids for someone else's husband's sister in Hollywood and the world'll turn on someone else's clock for a few hours."  
  
"You can fix this?" Mandy questioned, and for once, CJ actually saw her eyes cloud over in admiration.  
  
"Yeah, it's not going to ruin us, it looks bad," she added, not yet ready to let the young woman off the hook. "You messed up, but you know, blah blah about glass houses and stones, so yeah, be prepared for Bartlet's wrath and the vexation of the Senior Staff."  
  
"Including you?" Mandy asked without thought, her voice almost childish, her expression almost coy.  
  
CJ stared back, eyes never changing though a small smile slid fought to slide over her face after a few moments. Many stood up, moving closer, cocking her head to the side. "CJ..."  
  
"Hey, CJ?" Carol knocked at the door, opening it after she heard CJ's quick 'okay', "Toby wants you."  
  
"Doesn't everybody?" she tried, eliciting a grin from Carol and a half-frown from Mandy at the half-hearted attempt at banter. "Tell him I'll be there in a few minutes." Carol's head disappeared from the doorway though it remained open, almost like a barrier between them, whereas the closed door had been the go-ahead Mandy'd hoped for. She'd messed up, but she felt as if she'd been almost absolved.  
  
"Toby wants me," CJ informed her, as though she hadn't already heard Carol's interruption.  
  
"Doesn't everyone?" Mandy threw back, flippant as usual, and CJ's eyes narrowed slightly into that half-intimidating, half-arousing glare she reserved for the few that really deserved it. "I mean, you are delightful and delicious, right?"  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know," she mumbled under her breath, turning and striding to the doorway, "I have a meeting, so, take care not to do anything else that might damage the administration while I'm gone, will you? You don't need a baby-sitter, and I don't want to clean up any more of your messes today, got me?"  
  
Mandy returned the stare she offered, nodding quickly though she felt almost hurt by the accusation. She deserved it, she supposed, even though it seemed that moments earlier they'd had a sort of dÃ©tente, a thaw in the Cold War they waged after she left the campaign. CJ turned and headed for Toby's office, a hand sliding off the doorframe, and Mandy allowed herself to watch as the fingers slowly let go, one by one, perfectly manicured nails - much like her own - tapping the wood as it was released.  
  
"CJ," she called out, moving a half-step forward, waiting, wondering if she'd turn around one last time, expecting one last barb. After a few seconds, she noticed with satisfaction that her shoulders were squared again, battle-ready instead of battle-weary. Mandy looked down almost guiltily, childlike expectation on her down-turned face, "I'm sorry."  
  
Following a moment's observation, CJ sighed, nodded quickly, gracing Mandy with the smallest of smiles though she did not see it, and quietly replied, "Yeah, me too." Turning, she headed across the Communication's bullpen towards Toby's office again, ready to start the hunt for the reporter who possessed the memo. "Me too."  
  
And Mandy groaned quietly as she too moved to exit the office, wondering if she'd ever get it right, ever figure out exactly how to make her understand.  
  
"Maybe someday," she mumbled with a wry smile, pulling the door closed behind her. 


	5. Cito

Cito  
  
-Liza (lizaausten@tri-countynet.net or malenka@malenkaya.com)  
  
See notes in 0/4  
  
  
  
"Do you really hate me so much that my resigning…?" she pondered aloud, again seated in CJ's office. The door had just been opened, shut behind her, and Mandy could faintly hear the office's resident clicking on a lamp near her head. The blur of red behind her eyelids nevertheless stunned her.  
  
"I don't hate you, Mandy," she sighed, allowing her briefing binders to fall carelessly atop her desk. She raised an eyebrow as the younger woman seemed to mold herself against the back of the couch, throwing an arm over her side and propping herself on the opposite elbow. CJ removed her glasses with one hand, the other sliding through her hair, then walked to the front of her desk, crossing her arms and leaning backward against the cool wood.  
  
"If not you, then the rest of the Senior Staff." When CJ refused to respond, intent only on maintaining her most illustrious glare, she continued, "You're upset."  
  
"I think we've established that already, now what are you doing in my office?" she remarked, eyes belying her flippancy.  
  
"Waiting for you, thinking."  
  
"You've been here this entire time?" her arms fell to her sides, and she groaned, shifting her shoulders in a vain attempt to work out the kinks.  
  
"Does it matter?" Mandy retorted, throwing her legs over the end of the couch and slowly sitting upright. Her eyes had an almost red tint, glazed and hot, and CJ briefly wondered if she'd been crying, then swiftly pushed away the thought for another time, a better way to approach her.  
  
"No, I don't suppose it does," she granted, legs crossing at the ankles.  
  
"You stood up for me, today," the brunette remarked after drawing her eyes from CJ's ankles to her face, tracing the length of leg and waist and torso, "thank you."  
  
She shrugged, light-colored strands of hair falling in front of her eyes as she dipped her head forward, "He said it was time we all let you out of the dog house." After a pause, "And as usual, the President was right." Mandy's eyes widened only millimeters as CJ continued, "I'm not upset with you, Mandy, I have no right to be."  
  
"I was stupid…" she began, only to be interrupted as soon as the words burst forth.  
  
"Not for writing the memo, which was what we were all pissed off about, for not destroying all evidence of it. But how were you to know that it was even necessary? Sure, it would've been an incredibly good idea, but you'd never been in that position before, though we all seemed to think you should have been able to move heaven and earth and, Godforbid, time, to erase the memo from existence. It's not you we should be angry with, Mandy," she argued, defensive even to the woman she spoke of, hands raised in the air, her glasses dangling from thumb and forefinger.  
  
"Then who? Danny? It was his job too, CJ. I understand that, you know, it's his job to report things like this, write the stories," she debated whether or not to stand, and quickly resolved to remain seated and conserve her energy.  
  
"He told me to let him out of the, you know, dog house too. Not that I want to. He actually deserves it," she offered the tiniest of quasi-tired grins. "Then again, he usually does."  
  
"I…"  
  
"You didn't," she shook her head, "I'm not upset with you, though the rest of them may still be. More to the point, I'm upset with myself for… projecting, you know, for blaming you when it wasn't really your fault. I understand that it was your job, that this is politics, you know," CJ waved her reading glasses through the air, the legs tapping against her thumb as they slid to and fro.  
  
"Yeah," Mandy nodded, eyes wide and face young, admiring the expressiveness of the woman before her.  
  
"It's like with the Lydells, I tend to let my… instincts, my emotions, get the best of me. And I apologize for that, taking all of this out on you. Mark that one down, I'm almost as bad as Toby, I hate apologizing," she bit out wryly.  
  
"Should I be taking notes?" she asked, a grin slipping onto her face as her hands pushed the ends of her sleeves upward.  
  
"Good question," CJ granted, leaning her weight on the other leg and recrossing her ankles, allowing a light sort of silence to descend around them.  
  
Mandy's eyes flicked from her fabric-covered ankles to the walls, taking in the certificates, degrees, and photographs. Her brothers, her spin boys, her Toby; even pictures of the President, Dr. Bartlet, Leo, and… herself. A smile crossed her face as often happened in the Press Secretary's presence, and she indicated one particular black and white photograph leaning against her monitor. "I'd almost forgotten that," she spoke, though in truth it was always just beyond the limits of short-term memory.  
  
"The poker game?" she chuckled, nodding quickly then staring downward at her own feet once again.  
  
Fleetingly, Mandy wondered what it would feel like to trace the lines of those ankles, her calves. Stowing the thought for later, she replied, "Yeah. Want a rematch? She offered, her voice lacking its usual cockiness, reminding CJ of her almost frightened tone when the memo was first released, only lighter.  
  
"I," she waved at her desk, "I have work."  
  
"Oh, okay," Mandy nodded, finally urging herself to her feet, then cocking her head to the side. "Some other time?"  
  
"And I'm out of cash," CJ continued on obliviously, "but… later? I'm going to win this one," she smiled, walking around the side of the desk and lowering herself into the cushioned chair. She reflexively unfolded her glasses and placed them on her nose, grabbing the nearest binder in an attempt to appear as efficient as she felt she should be.  
  
"Right," she agreed, slightly deflated, moving quickly to open the door.  
  
"Tuesday, what are you doing Tuesday night?"  
  
"What?" Mandy asked, preparing to slip through the opening and disappear back into the communications bullpen, down the hall, and back into her life.  
  
"Tuesday. For a rematch, I can go to the bank tomorrow and, you know, we need money to play, and beer," CJ twirled a hand through the air.  
  
"Okay. Okay, Tuesday it is. And you're not going to win," she shot the taller woman a lopsided grin reminiscent of Josh, and slipped through the doorway, pulling it closed behind her once again. Quickly rethinking her strategy, Mandy cracked the door open, poked her head inside, and called, "I changed my mind," catching the almost disappointed look on CJ's face though she valiantly attempted to hide it, she added, "You bring the food, I'll bring the beer. None of that domestic weak shit."  
  
The Press Secretary nodded from her seat, closed the binder and reached for another. "It's a date," she replied, something akin to sarcasm threading through her voice, and Mandy's heart thudded as she backed out of CJ's inner sanctum for the last time that evening.  
  
---  
  
1 I barely know you  
  
We've been sort of friends  
  
So what if I called you and called you again  
  
--- 


End file.
